Narthus stood on top of the Bazaar, roughly right over where his friends were engaged in battle. He watched Cyrus and Garianna as they casted and chanted in unison. The two have been channeling their dark sorcerous powers for a few minutes now, Narthus thought. He was waiting for their signal, the signal that would tell him to unleash his fiery breath weapon onto the top of the large dome to create an opening. The air around the sorcerers began to get thick, he could feel something coming, he could tell that the two were summoning something. Narthus waited.
The Orc shaman had been focused on his ritual for quite some time now. After he saw his other fellow shaman slain so easily he retreated into the crowd of Orcs to start his chanting. He was nearly complete, he was ready to sacrifice himself for his God. This would be his last spell he thought, better not let Lord Darkblade down. Just a few more seconds.
Trome Titæn lined up his shot and let his arrow fly. Darkblade was quick, he immediatley spun his body and arched himself backwards to try and avoid the arrow that was aimed for his face. He wasn't quick enough. Trome's shot was true and the arrow pierced through both of the giant Orc's cheeks. Darkblade roared so loud it shook the foundations of the Bazaar. The Orc stumbled backwards in pain, grabbing at the arrow lodged in his face.
Sylvanoran grinned behind his mask as he saw a good opportunity to deliver more pain. The warlock launched himself into the air, his dark power keeping him aloft, gathered energy into his scepter and unleashed it all down onto Darkblade. The Orc caught the volley right in his forehead and it sent him crashing into the floor.
Isidro, not bleeding anymore, came sprinting over to Darkblade with both blades out. The Orc was doubled over, his smoking face buried into the floor. Isidro leapt up and landed onto Darkblade's back, sinking his swords into either side of his spine. Darkblade roared once more, jumped to his feet, thrashing around. Isidro held strongly to the hilts of his weapons, keeping them buried deep.
With the Assassin still clinging to his back, Darkblade took up his sword and charged towards Trome. Four arrows came flying towards the Orc, an attempt to slow him down, it didn't work. The arrows were shattered or deflected by thick armor. Darkblade's sword went high and then came crashing down towards the archer. Trome did the only thing he could to deflect the sword, use his bow to block the strike. The giant bastard sword struck down onto the magical bow, deflecting the attack, but also utterly destroying the bow. The force of the strike sent Trome to the ground.
The large nimble archer tumbled to his feet and began to put some distance between himself and the Orc as he drew out a second bow from his magical quiver. Darkblade closed the distance quickly and lined up for a second strike when Illikan charged into the Orc. The flying elbow strike sent Darkblade tumbling to the ground, the sound was like two mountains colliding. Isidro safely withdrew his blades and tumbled out of harm's way before he was crushed by Darkblades armor.
The Orc lay very still. The Riders of Brightstone could tell that he was just buying time before he makes his next attack. Darkblade was running out of options. Trome walked over cautiously with two arrows knocked, ready to plant them into Darkblade's skull when suddenly, from out of the crowd came the second shaman running towards Darkblade with his eyes and hands all aglow with a strange red energy.
The shaman was fixed on one thing only, become a physical link between Darkblade and Gruumsh. A conduit to transfer what remaining strength the god had into Lord Darkblade. Two arrows struck him, struck him simultaneously in the neck. An attack that would have killed the shaman immediatley, the attack nearly severed the shaman's head. However, this orc forfeited what life force he had when he began casting this spell, he was now animated by Gruumsh himself.
Trome gasped as his arrows didn't slow the shaman (the arrows DID continue to fly into the crowd of Orcs killing five BTW). Sylvanoran pieced together what was probably going to happen if the shaman would reach Darkblade's body and with a burst of dark vapor he teleported himself over Darkblade just before the shaman reached him. The warlock's demon arm flew up and grabbed the shaman by the head and lifted him off of the ground. Sylvanoran's large clawed hand completely covered the shaman's face. The Orc kicked and thrashed, but was too weak to break the warlock's hold.
The energy inside of the Orc seemed to be incredibly unstable and Sylvanoran paused a second to think of how to dispose of the Shaman safely. The shaman was rendered helpless by the warlock's grasp, but that didn't stop Darkblade. The giant Orc sprang to his feet and thrust his clawed gauntlets into Sylvanoran's back. Sylvanoran could almost feel Darkblade's hand coming out the otherside of his chest, he used his teleportation power once more and vanished. The shaman, not being held anymore, fell to the ground and Darkblade reached for him. Illikan grabbed Darkblade from behind and put him into a bear hug. The massive monk did everything he could to keep Darkblade away from the glowing Orc.
Sylvanoran appeared towards the edge of the area that the Orcs had cleared for the fight. He was on his hands and knees and was losing a lot of blood. The warlock held his breath, and concentrated on his gaping wound. Slowly the wound began to heal. All he could do is wait for his wound to close up before he could rejoin the fight. He looked up and saw Illikan holding Darkblade, his tree-trunk-arms wrapped around the giant Orc's body. The shaman was on ground, still pulsing with divine energy, he got to his feet and moved towards Darkblade.
Isidro moved in desperately to stop the Orc, a flurry of stabs and slashes removed an arm and half of the Shaman's face. The shaman continued. A volley of five arrows blew straight through the Orc's chest and continued into the crowd. The Orc continued. Darkblade could tell his days would be numbered if he didn't get to the Shaman. Darkblade drove the back of his head into Illikan's face and used his spiky armor to drive his elbow into his stomach. Illikan stumbled backwards bleeding from the face and torso.
Darkblade grabbed the shaman and took him up into a bear hug, crushing the energy out of the little Orc. The shaman burst and was vaporized, creating an explosive charge of sheer divine power. The blast rocked the Bazaar, every one of the two hundred Orcs was thrown off of their feet. Trome, Isidro, Sylvanoran, and Illikan were all tossed a few dozen feet into the crowd of fallen Orcs.
When the blinding light subsided, everyone climbed to their feet. The RoB were surrounded by dozens of Orcs, but for this short moment nobody seemed to care. All eyes were on Lord Darkblade. The large Orc Lord held his sword up into the air and roared with such intensity it made the ground shake. There, standing in the center of the Bazaar was Lord Darkblade, avatar of Gruumsh. Re-energized and strength bolstered, Darkblade began to walk forward, towards the exit of the Bazaar. He was so focused that he seemed to forget he was just locked in deadly combat. Trome and Isidro ran back to the center circular clearing quickly, ready to re-engage Darkblade. Sylvanoran stood his ground, not seeming to care that he was surrounded by a hundred angry and awe inspired Gruumsh fanatics. Illikan burst from the crowd and sprinted towards Darkblade with lightning speed. The monk was a blur, he rounded up behind the Orc King for a strike. In a flash Illikan hit the floor. The monk was in a daze. Bleeding from his face, he looked up at Darkblade's extended fist.
Gruumsh's chosen warrior raised his sword and drove it into the ground, right where Illikan laid. Illikan watched Darkblade's sword hilt descend all the way down to his chest. Larizha, screamed in terror as she watched her good friend get skewered to the ground. Illikan made no sound or facial expression. His mind was so well tuned and focused that he had no use for pain anymore. The monk just laid there, helpless. Darkblade removed his sword, after twisting it of course, and continued walking out of the Bazaar. "Destroy the scum here. It's time we end this war once and for all!" Darkblade roared while exiting.
The two hundred Orcs screamed battle cries and raised their weapons. Isidro and Trome stood in the middle sizing up their opponents that were closing in from all sides. Larizha ignored everyone but Illikan, she ran to his body and began using her mystical healing power on him.
With a crack of thunder and a roar of flame, a twenty foot diameter opening in the ceiling blast open and a small army of demons began to pour into the bazaar. Flying and falling down, crashing onto the Orc's shield and sword. RoB braced themselves for the assault until they realized that these demons were in fact, allies.
Cyrus and Garianna, exhausted, finished the ritual and monitored the gates they opened from the Abyss. Narthus stood back until all of the demons had entered the Bazaar, and he jumped in after them to engage the Orcs. Garianna turned to address her Fey'ri allies "Engage the enemy, cover all exits but stay clear of Darkblade." The fifteen or so winged demons sprang into action. Fireballs and Lightning bolts began to rain down onto the Orc armies below.
The Sorcerers closed their gates to the Abyss and flew towards the sky. Several hundred feet up they could get a much better picture of where they could be useful next. The Bazaar was now the center of the action. On the west side was Darkblade's army and on the East was Prince Thaynin's forces. It was a full on battle at this point, and all hell was breaking loose inside of the Bazaar.
Sylvanoran watched the demons crash down onto the Orcs, distracting them long enough so he could finish healing his wound, and by that time he was surrounded by a pretty decent pile of dead Orc. The dark warlock clapped his hands together and created a burst of necrotic energies that swirled around him and entered a dozen of the deceased bodies near him. One by one the dead Orcs rose to their feet and marched over to Sylvanoran for further instruction. "Lead me out of the Bazaar, and don't let any of these ugly Orcs get near me." The Orc zombies grunted in acknowledgment and the twelve surrounded him as they began to march out of the Bazaar.
Trome stood over Larizha and Illikan, a barrage of arrows finding anyone willing to get near. The ranger decided to wait this out for awhile. Take in what was all happening. Orc god? Abyssal army? 'What have i gotten myself into?' he thought.
Meanwhile Isidro was performing his dance of death. The assassin twirled, spun, flipped, and tumbled through the ranks of Orcs, leaving a path of death in his wake. The Orcs were the thickest near Darkblade, and that's just where he was heading. The "friend" he had contacted before the assault began will be reaching the battle soon, and he did not want to miss their arrival.
NEXT: Darkblade… I mean Gruumsh's Fate